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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24639709">Starlight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eurydia/pseuds/Eurydia'>Eurydia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Heartlines [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Death Stranding (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, F/M, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Major Character Injury, Spoilers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:54:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,463</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24639709</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eurydia/pseuds/Eurydia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"...I know now. Why they call you ‘Heartman.’”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aaron Hill/Lockne (Death Stranding), Heartman/Mama (Death Stranding)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Heartlines [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618138</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Målingen and Lockne</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The coming chapters contain <b>major spoilers</b> for "Episode 5: Mama" until "Episode 8: Heartman".</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div>
<p></p><div>
<p></p><div class="letter"><p>...in the darkness you will reach out a hand,<br/>
     not knowing for certain if someone else is even there.<br/>
     And your hands will meet,<br/>
     and then neither of you will ever need to be alone again.<br/>
</p></div><p> <i></i></p>
<p></p><div><p>- Neil Gaiman, <i><a href="http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2017/10/wedding-thoughts-all-i-know-about-love.html">Wedding Thoughts: All I Know About Love</a></i></p></div></div></div><p> </p>
<p> </p><h3></h3>
<p> </p>
<p>They laid on the grass together. Målingen borrowed a lock of her sister’s hair and wore it like a stache.</p>
<p>“...Laurie?”<br/>
     Målingen shook her head, smiling.<br/>
     “Mary?”<br/>
     Another head shake.<br/>
     “Oh, oh—I know. Tracy.”<br/>
     “No, <i>silly</i>,” Mama shoved her sister on the shoulder.<br/>
     She locked her fingers over her round belly and tried to look at her feet. In the past, she couldn’t remember looking down all that often; now that she couldn’t see them, she felt the need to check every couple of hours.<br/>
</p>
<p>“It’s not a common name. Really uncommon. Highly specific.”<br/>
     “Don’t tell me. You want to keep up that weird family tradition,” Lockne plucked a blade of grass out, twirling it in her fingertips. “People can barely pronounce <i>our names</i>...”<br/>
     “Lock, hear me out. Please.”<br/>
     “I’m listening, Mulligan...”<br/>
     <i>Målingen</i> groaned in annoyance. Lockne grinned. Her sister finally let the name slip into their thoughts.<br/>
     “What do you think?”<br/>
     “Elorza,” she tried, not entirely displeased with it.<br/>
     “It’s a crater on Mars. The room we used to play in a lot when we were little?”<br/>
     “So instead of looking up baby names, you were looking up crater names. On Mars.”<br/>
</p>
<p>They laughed together. Lockne felt a familial comfort in their shared strangeness, in knowing there would always be one person in the world who not only loved her but accepted her. She smiled at her sister, at her belly which held Elorza, and knew it wasn’t DOOMS or motherhood that made Målingen the way she was: self-sacrificial, determined, compassionate to a fault. These were traits Målingen always had—what Lockne wished she had, too.</p>
<p>“Mama would’ve loved that name.” Lockne whispered. She wrapped the blade of grass around her finger, forming a loose ring with it.<br/>
     After a beat, Målingen asked, “But do <i>you</i> like it?”<br/>
     “Elorza,” she murmured. “Ellie, for short.”<br/>
</p>
<p>They held hands. It was the closest they’ve ever felt to each other since being in the womb.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We're at the final part of the series! &lt;3 It feels like only yesterday I started writing this. I would hold off on working on this because I didn't want it to end. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.</p>
<p>I kept the in-game dialogue mostly the same in upcoming chapters, with certain word changes and additions.</p>
<p>  <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/05ho1OFzZj2yGMcEGPKtCF?si=fmAX3yZuQXCnothQsSR3fQ">[Starlight - 92914]</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Målingen and Lockne</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mama woke up in the middle of the night. She had fallen asleep for about an hour when Ellie began to tug at their cord. As she stirred, the languidness of early morning seeped into her bones. She moved to soothe her like a rustic machine whirring to life for the first time in years, slow and stuttering. But as soon as the child made her way into her thin arms, she smiled. She sang. She came alive. Ellie babbled and laughed with her. </p>
<p>Eventually, the baby quieted and reached for her mother’s cuff link. She rocked her gently. The goodbye swelled in her throat with the hollowness of a funerary hymn, soft notes that soon tapered into silence; a deafening silence that conjured up her innermost thoughts. </p>
<p>It wasn’t the world she would miss most. It was her—it had always been her. </p>
<p>“I understand now. Why Lockne wanted to have you. Because your mama she—she never wanted to be mama. Not because she didn’t love you, but because...she didn’t want to bring anyone into this dark world,” she brushed her thumb over Ellie’s round cheeks. “But you made my world better. Brighter. My little star...you taught me so much. About what it means to be a good mother. A good sister. A good friend. They were right. You <i>are</i> the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You are the greatest gift of my life. You gave me life.</p>
<p>“I love you, my little star. Forever and always.” </p>
<p>She planted one last kiss on Ellie’s forehead before she let her float away.</p>
<p> </p><h4>
  <div>•••</div>
</h4>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, Sam. Thanks for coming back,” Mama said. She lifted her head from her desk, then grabbed his cuff link nearby. “Got something for you.”</p>
<p>Sam gave her a puzzled look. She didn’t want to drag this out. The thought of wanting to get it over with made her shame burn an even deeper hole through her stomach. The last thing she wanted was to die knowing Sam hated her. </p>
<p>“...Cut the cord of the BT, and it returns to the world of the dead. No BT, no voidout. Win—win,” Mama explained, flatly. She snapped and unlocked Sam’s cuff link for him. Unable to look at him anymore, she turned around. </p>
<p>Mama watched Ellie sleeping for the last time. Then, she pulled her in close and cradled her. Afterwards, she turned to Sam.</p>
<p>“Cut the cord connecting us,” she ordered. “She’s sound asleep. I made sure she got plenty of milk. Just do it. Please, Sam. Set us free. This world was never hers, but all the same I didn’t want her to leave it. Even though she’s already lost.”</p>
<p>Her voice fell to a whisper, afraid that the child would hear her. Sam didn’t come any closer. His silence used to make her tense, like the calm before a supercell. But the more she spoke to him, the more she realized that that was far from the truth. Sam didn’t have to come back. He could’ve left Bridges again and no one would’ve blamed him. But he was here now. </p>
<p>“Truth is...she’s not really my daughter,” Mama confessed. She told him everything, about Lockne, Daniel, Ellie. “Lockne wanted a child, someone to carry her genes. She fell in love with another member of Bridges. But he died in an accident. She was devastated of course, as was I.” </p>
<p>Her sister’s memories of Daniel, ineffaceable and vivid, became hers too. Thoughts of him reminded her of the expedition: the scent of reeds, grass, and sandalweed, earthen and wild yet unmistakably familiar. Saying her goodbyes to Heartman was not the first time her heart had been torn out of her. It was not the first time that a part of her had died with someone else.</p>
<p>“When I sensed her desire to join him—to end it—I went to her and said: let’s have a baby.” Mama turned to Sam. Recounting the memory, she longed to tell him that she had meant the words, that they weren’t solely brought on by a desire to save her sister. She truly wanted a baby, then. She wanted Ellie. </p>
<p>“Our bond was severed. I wanted to tell her, but I was bound to the child, I couldn’t just abandon her,” she said, stroking the child’s cheeks. “But I was wrong. Lockne needs to know. You have to break some ties to forge others. You can’t be tied to everything. </p>
<p>“If we’re going to reconnect the world,” Mama let her tears fall freely. “I need to reconnect with my sister first.”</p>
<p>After composing herself, she held a length of her umbilical cord out to Sam.</p>
<p>“If there’s one thing I learned about being a good mother, it’s that it takes sacrifice. It means bearing life’s pain so that she won’t have to,” she shut her eyes and held the cord out even farther. “Do it. Cut the cord connecting us.”</p>
<p>There was silence. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to catch Sam mid-swing because she knew herself, knew that she would pull away, change her mind. She shut her eyes even tighter.</p>
<p>In her mind, she repeated the same words over and over again.<br/>
<i>I love you.<br/>
I love you<br/>
I love you.<br/>
My little star.</i></p>
<p>Pain, scalpel-sharp radiated from her belly, her sides, her legs. At that moment, every cell in her body came alive; every nerve firing in a violent frenzy of sensations—warm, hot, cold, sharp, numb. The pain slowly dissipated, leaving behind a metallic coldness that made her shiver. She finally opened her eyes. Above them, Ellie began to float away, untethered. Free. Her outline gradually lost form until only particles remained; infinitesimal specks that caught every bit of light in the room. </p>
<p>It reminded her of stardust. </p>
<p>“Goodbye,” Mama whispered, reaching out before losing balance. She felt Sam from behind, cushioning her fall. Pain wracked her every limb. She held onto his hand tightly, unable to move.</p>
<p>“All right, Sam," she cried. “Take me home. To Lockne.”</p>
<p>A heartbeat passed. The static of a holocall caught them both off guard. Standing to their right, in front of the immense window, was Heartman. </p>
<p>“Sam. Målingen—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ellie!” Lockne sat up in her bed, clutching her belly and breathing hard. She was gone. Their child was gone.</p>
<p>She lied on her side and clutched her throbbing belly. Pain slid under her skin like a thousand needles at once. But as quickly as they had pierced her, they were gone. All that remained was soreness; trickles of pain that made her afraid to move. </p>
<p>Amidst all her pain was a sensation that she hadn’t felt in years. The shroud of solitude had been lifted from her shoulders. She felt her again—she could <i>feel</i> her again. The pain that was Målingen’s as much as it was hers.</p>
<p>They were beginning to feel whole.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Heartman</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It happened in a heartbeat. Sam swung his arm. Some sort of cuff-hook in his hand. Gold. Målingen lost balance; he caught her in time. He swore his heart stopped beating when he heard her say goodbye.</p>
<p>“Sam, could you give us a minute?” she asked.<br/>
     He set her down gently, then gave them both a polite nod before stepping outside.<br/>
</p>
<p>She hardly moved as she lied on the floor, hands folded across her belly. Her lips pursed into a tight smile as he knelt beside her, crying. He had seen enough people die to know when it was someone’s time.</p>
<p>“Please, don’t go,” Heartman tried to grab her hand but phased through her. “Don’t leave me.”</p>
<p>After staring at their superimposed hands, she finally said, “Do you remember...during our expedition. When we got caught up in BT territory? I can’t see them as well as Sam but...I saw something. Someone,” her listless gaze trailed over him then to the ceiling. “It was only a baby. A BT baby. She was just like mine. She had an umbilical cord. I owed her my life...our lives. I tried to raise her—my own. Ellie. I tried to...for Lockne and I.”</p>
<p>Heartman remembered her words from before. He would return from the Beach with fragments of memories he thought were either repressed or forgotten; only later in his life did he realize they were words spoken to him while he was dead. Now he knew why she couldn’t visit him, or anyone for that matter. Why her gaze wandered to the same spot on the ceiling each time they were on a call. Why he had never seen her daughter. </p>
<p>“Are you...what will happen to you?” Heartman asked. “Is he taking you to the…?”<br/>
     “No,” Målingen said, quickly. “He’s taking me to Mountain Knot City. That’s where Lockne is. Then to you,” she gave him a strained smile. “My body doesn’t necrotize.”<br/></p>
<p>He studied her face. She looked paler than he remembered. If her body truly didn’t necrotize, then why did it feel like he was about to lose her? His heart raced at the sheer helplessly he felt, unable to touch her, hold her, comfort her. At the Beach, he could at least hold someone’s hand and listen to them. He had time. Time passed on the Beach, but not in the same way it did on the side of the living. Here, his time was always cut short. </p>
<p>“You’ve waited for a donor long enough,” she said. “I want to give you my heart. It has always been yours.”<br/>
     His lips parted at the sentiment. He shook his head, barely able to speak.<br/>
     “I...I <i>can’t</i>,” he replied. “I don’t deserve it.”<br/>
     “You deserve a chance to live.”<br/>
     Heartman shifted closer, pressing his forehead to hers.<br/>
     “Yes. But not without you.”<br/>
</p>
<p>They remained this way for a long while, the silence punctuated only by the sounds of his defibrillator. At five minutes, he moved to mute it but relented. He kept his hand on the cold metal, brushing his fingers over the switches.</p>
<p>“This is all my damned heart’s fault.”<br/>
     “James,” she waited for him to look at her before continuing. “I’ve thought of this for a very long time. I shouldn’t have let it get this far. When you told me you’ve been waiting for a donor, for a new heart, I knew what I had to do. What I should’ve done a while ago...”</p>
<p>Heartman watched her smile disappear. Dust danced in the halflight, like sparks igniting then dying in the darkness. Some part of him believed her, that the scales to weigh his heart were unbalanced from the start. Yet he still felt responsible. This was the price he must pay for a heavy heart.</p>
<p>His tears ran dry. He scrubbed his hands down his face, tried to form an apology, but the words caught in his throat. Målingen sat up and faced him. He saw her hands holding his chin up. </p>
<p>“You can take my heart—make it yours. Or keep your heart. The heart that I’ve fallen for. The one I wished you loved as much as I do. I know now. Why they call you ‘Heartman.’”<br/>
     She pressed her hand to his heart.<br/>
     “You love with your whole heart. It defines you.”<br/>
     “I don’t know what to do. Please, tell me. What should I do?” he asked.<br/>
     “I can’t make that choice for you.”<br/>
</p>
<p>When he had only a minute left, she stood up, shakily. She braced herself against his arms as if he were truly there.</p>
<p>“I asked Deadman to make sure my heart finds its way to you. Regardless of what choice you make...whether you take it or not. I want you to know,” she cupped his face with her hands. </p>
<p>“I love you, James.”<br/>
     As the final seconds of his life ticked away, he whispered, “I love you too, Målingen.”<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/4swvQp8fIzN6ZMVaXnXRsr?si=GBejZ0MiT8-Wi880U8QWow">[did you/fall apart - Prateek Kuhad]</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Målingen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mama stood in the middle of her lab. She stared at the corners that she regularly dusted for Ellie, at the mobile which had not spun since her departure, its whales looking lonelier than ever before. She looked out the window one last time, into the amalgam of caved-in concrete, steel, and fractured light; the only sunlight she could see. Until now.</p>
<p>Three years. For three years, she had called this hospital-lab her home. But as she stood there, reminiscing, the sorrow of parting didn’t pain her as much as she thought it would. Maybe she needed more time to process things, to say goodbye to the bots that kept her company all these years. Looking up at the ceiling, it dawned on her that it was not her projects, bots, and books which made her lab feel more like home. It was Ellie, and Ellie alone. </p>
<p>It was not personal effects that made a place feel like home, but the presence of someone who felt like home. </p>
<p>She called Sam over and told him she was ready to see Lockne.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>The warmth of the light, the touch of the wind, the scent of the world.</i>
</p>
<p>They stepped out into the daylight together. She was zipped up in a sleeping bag strapped onto Sam’s back. As he set out for Mountain Knot, the warmth of the sun caressed her face for the first time in years. The wind nipped her cheeks, lifting from her skin the scent of rusted metal and welded iron. She closed her eyes, basked in the sunlight and breathed in the scents of morning, of dewfall, rivers and wildflowers.</p>
<p>The silence was broken in intervals by Sam, who liked to shout his name from the mountaintops. Målingen got a good laugh out of it. Hearing the quietest man he knew yell at the top of his lungs was something to behold. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to make her laugh, or if he wanted her to join him. She found it hard to speak even at a normal volume. </p>
<p>He ran alongside a riverbed, where smooth rocks glinted down the shoreline into grass hills and moss-covered crags. Sunlight shivered on the water’s surface in strips brighter than north stars. As her gaze roamed the endless landscape, she thought of Lockne.</p>
<p>“...We had a Beach just for us. One we shared.” Målingen explained. She always wondered what it looked like, if the waters were as clear as the rivers that Sam trekked through. If it was night or day, winter or summer. If she were going there alone or with her sister. If Heartman could visit her.</p>
<p>It wasn’t long before snow began to fall. The landscape grew hazy and nebulous, like looking through fogged up glasses. Snow-capped mountain ranges wrapped around the horizon, silver peaks still visible. Målingen filled the rest of the silence with stories of her sister, the expedition, and Heartman. </p>
<p>After climbing down a steep hill, he finally said something.<br/>
     “So you and Heartman, huh?”<br/>
     Mama chuckled. His voice perked up.<br/>
     “Yeah. We were paired up for the second expedition. We made a pretty good team, I think. It was difficult but...we made it work,” she said.<br/>
     The sun was slowly setting behind the mountains before them, bathing the snow in hues of gold. “Hey Sam. You’ve been in love before. Is it always going to be this way? Like time is never on our side.”<br/>
</p>
<p>They slowed to a stop at the top of a hill. She felt Lockne close by. Below, grasslands stretched out into the mountainside, where buildings caught the final rays of sunset. Sam crouched, then shrugged off the straps that had been keeping her connected to him. He sat beside her, looking at the Distro Center he has probably been to hundreds of times.</p>
<p>After a moment, he said, “Time’ll always be against you. Just have to...make the best of what you do have.”</p>
<p>She smiled at him in earnest. He smiled back.</p>
<p>“I’m going to miss you, Sam,” she said. “Thank you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Målingen and Lockne</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lockne headed to the entrance of the Distro Center. The ceiling hung high above her, making the room appear more isolating than it really was. Though she was alone, she didn’t feel alone. She stared ahead, allowing her eyes to acclimate to the blinding light at the end of the tunnel. Then for the first time in years, she closed her eyes, caressed her face, and tried to reach out to her.</p>
<p>There was only silence at first. A dark sky devoid of stars...</p>
<p>
  <i>Målingen?</i>
</p>
<p>Lockne closed her eyes tighter, willing her sister to hear her. She needed to hear her voice again. She needed to know she was close, that she wasn’t imagining things and what she felt in the middle of the night hadn’t been a dream so vivid in detail it could've easily been mistaken for reality— </p>
<p><i>We’re...connected now,</i> Målingen thought. </p>
<p>In the dark of her eyelids was a singular point of light; a solitary north star that was gradually joined by one, two, then hundreds of stars illuminating the darkest corners of her lids. </p>
<p>Stars came in pairs.<br/>
     <i>We won’t drift apart.</i></p>
<p>A silhouette emerged from the tunnel light. Sam. She met him at the terminal, watched her set Målingen down gently. She wasn’t moving. </p>
<p>Lockne pressed her forehead against hers. The moment they touched, specks of chiralium, like stardust, floated from her skin and swirled and glinted all around them. She didn’t know what it meant—whether they were reunited or parted forever. All she knew was that she needed her close. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Lockne embraced her. Tears rolled down her cheeks and dotted Målingen’s bare shoulder. “I love you so much. I love you so much...”<br/>
</p>
<p>Still, she hadn't moved.<br/>
     Had those been her last words?<br/>
     <i>Please,</i> she thought. <i>Please come back.</i><br/>
     “...It’s good to hear your voice again,” she finally replied. “I tried to save her, but I couldn’t.”<br/>
</p>
<p>Lockne smiled weakly as their emotions began to resurface. Memories of their child’s laughter, all the lullabies and songs and cries and conversations sounded in her ears. A thousand voices spoke all at once, some familiar others not. Lockne closed her eyes and let the stream of conscious thoughts flood her mind.</p>
<p>
  <i>Stay until—why didn’t you—Beach just for us—not going any—where were we—little star—I’m sorry—all the pain you’ve—I would do anything—come with me—you and I—wish I could—not a bad person—please don’t go—beautiful as you—always do—Målingen—don’t leave me—    </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Goodbye.</i>
</p>
<p>As pained as it sounded, Lockne recognized her sister's voice right away. She looked between Sam and her sister. The twins couldn’t feel physical pain, yet their souls knew intimately well the pains of parting, grief and goodbyes. They only knew what dying meant—never what it felt like. What was death to someone who couldn’t feel pain, couldn’t die? </p>
<p><i>This is it,</i> Målingen thought. <i>This is what it’s like.</i></p>
<p>It was a moment of unrelenting pain and joy, suffering and catharsis. Målingen didn’t know if it would be quick or slow. She breathed steadily. Tried to keep her eyes open. She wondered if she was right, if this was how it truly felt like; if she was supposed to be afraid, scared, relieved. All she knew for certain was that she didn’t want to die alone. </p>
<p>Death was a flare fired into the night which burned and turned night into momentary day, darkness into light. Like all bright things, they didn’t burn for long. A flare went seen or unseen; even when seen, its message was variable, serving as a warning, a call for help, a sign of rebellion.</p>
<p>She wanted hers to be an act of hope.</p>
<p>“Lockne...you need to fix his Q-pid,” Målingen murmured, at last. “I couldn’t save our child, but you can save our world. You can save him. Only you.”<br/>
     Målingen didn’t try to fight it. She looked up at the ceiling, at the light suffusing through her glasses. She smiled.<br/>
     “I love you. You hear me? Forever and always.”<br/>
     Sam handed Lockne the Q-pid. She rubbed the engravings, then held her sister’s hand.<br/>
     <i>We’ll always be connected.</i><br/>
     “We won’t drift apart,” Lockne whispered.<br/>
</p>
<p>She felt Målingen’s soul leave her body and become one with hers.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/2keT649m2xIywngAVJHsuC?si=E2-DpJCPTi68KkTotE8phQ">[Forever &amp; Always - Zeph]</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Heartman</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Heartman returned from the Beach to find Sam in his lab, Mama in tow. Her body bag caught the window light, which softened its harsh silver edges. He was no stranger to death. Neither was Sam. But the last person he expected to ferry across the rivers of the underworld was his friend, his partner. The woman who had stolen his heart.</p>
<p>Sam had come a long way, and through BT territory, no less. Heartman sat up on his divan and wore a smile for his guest. Though he wanted nothing more than to grieve with the porter—the only one left who could truly understand him—he held his tongue. He was still his host, after all. </p>
<p>“Well, you certainly caught me with my pants down,” he joked, once he had composed himself. “Glad you could make it, Sam.” </p>
<p>He extended his hand out of habit, but the porter moved away. The look in his eyes was one of coldness—betrayal, even. Did he blame him for what happened to Målingen?<br/>
     “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you,” he said. “But I am what I am.”<br/>
     He gestured to the mortuary trolley he had brought out ahead of the visit.<br/>
     “Please lay her down there.”<br/>
     Unable to look at Målingen, he turned around and began typing up his observations from the last Beach. He heard the gentle creak of the trolley’s wheels as Sam laid her down.<br/>
     “Still no sign of her...”<br/>
     “You know your heart stops beating?” asked Sam.<br/>
     “It stops every twenty-one minutes. I spend three minutes on the Beach, and then return.”<br/>
</p>
<p>He explained his condition the same way he had with her. As he watched the snowfall through his window, it wasn’t his family he saw by the lake. It was her. A holo, mirage, ghost—it no longer mattered. What mattered was that he could see her, and she was waving at him, so that meant she could see him too. A single tear streaked down his cheek. </p>
<p><i>You love with your whole heart.</i><br/>
     “It defines me,” he said. “I am Heartman.”<br/>
</p>
<p>Heartman walked over to her. He has stalled long enough. Delicately, he tugged the bag’s zipper down, revealing Målingen’s face. Her eyes were closed; the pale veil of death hadn’t been placed over her gentle features. If he hadn’t known any better, she appeared to be asleep. He lowered his voice.</p>
<p>“A body that doesn’t necrotize. No sign of decomposition,” he explained, woodenly. “It’s as if she were still alive.”<br/>
     <i>Because she is,</i> he thought. <i>She has to be.</i><br/>
     “The perfect mummy. An impeccable corpse...”<br/>
     He remembered the instruction she gave him. He searched her without looking, tried to treat her like he did any other body that the physician sent over, with the respectful but detached demeanor of someone accustomed to working with the dead. </p>
<p>But it was Målingen. He couldn’t bring himself to categorize her as any other corpse. Couldn’t even believe she was truly dead, not when she looked as if she would awaken at any moment. </p>
<p>Heartman felt something cold under his fingertips. A vial.<br/>
     “Behold,” he held it up to the light for Sam to see. “It appears to be an umbilical cord. Human, by the looks of it. I think? It looks more like a BT’s tether...”<br/>
     He already suspected who it truly belonged to. But now wasn’t the time to let that on. The time he had with Sam, short as it was, must be devoted to helping him go farther west.</p>
<p>“These are remarkable discoveries, Sam.” He smiled at him, warmly. “Enough to set my sore heart racing.”</p>
<p>Heartman wasted little time explaining the next leg of Sam’s journey. He walked over to his window and pulled up several maps and images for him. As he spoke, he remembered his old expedition friends: Thomas, Edward, and Målingen. His heart was always drawn to research, long before he set off west with her. But looking at Sam, in his weatherworn jumpsuit, rekindled the cinders of wanderlust in his heart. How long has it been since he last saw grasslands, seen something other than perpetual winter?</p>
<p>“...The earth has a long memory. Its strata tell a story—one that goes back to the very beginning. One that not even the Death Stranding could erase,” Heartman said. “The past informs the present and aids us in building the future.</p>
<p>“<i>Three minutes to cardiac arrest,</i>” he rolled his eyes. He hadn’t gotten through the entirety of his explanation. “Oh, shut up. I’m putting you on mute. No, not...you.”</p>
<p>Sam hadn’t questioned him about her. Perhaps he truly didn’t know, or Målingen hadn’t told him. Or that the porter was simply sparing his feelings. Regardless of his reasons, he knew they were running out of time. He spoke faster.</p>
<p>“Afterwards, we can get back to the important job of researching the Death—”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Målingen and Lockne</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lockne was smiling as she climbed the stairwell to the roof. She found Aaron at his usual spot, book closed beside him. At that moment, he was typing something from his cuff link. She didn’t call attention to herself as she sat down next to him.</p>
<p>“Oh—hey Lockne,” he stopped typing and shifted to make room for her. “And Målingen...?”<br/>
     “Yeah. We’re both here,” Lockne said. After a beat, she added, “Thanks to you.”<br/>
     “Me?”<br/>
     “You asked Sam to talk to Mama, didn’t you?”<br/>
     Aaron tried to act surprised, but as she smirked at him, he dropped the pretense. He stared at their hands, which were pressed against the concrete, close but not touching. Without moving, he watched the slow and gentle sunrise ahead. Mountain ridges grew more detailed as the sun peeked over the horizon. She watched the world waking with him, and for the first time since the expedition, felt at peace. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Aaron. What I said—what I did. I was wrong,” she began. “I let my own fears get in the way of reconnecting everyone. I made my sister go through all that...all because I thought she hated me and ran off with our child. But after everything, she didn’t hold it against me. She still loved me. She never stopped loving me.”</p>
<p><i>I love you, sis.</i><br/>
     Right away Målingen answered, <i>forever and always.</i><br/>
</p>
<p>“We wouldn’t be whole again if it wasn’t for you.”</p>
<p>Eventually, Aaron placed his hand over hers.<br/>
     “I owe you an apology too,” he said. “Reconnecting the country means bringing people closer together. For better or worse. I was only looking at the bright side of things.”<br/>
     Lockne laced their fingers together. He sounded different. There wasn’t the usual cheeriness to his voice, and his smile didn’t stay up for long.<br/>
     “The Director wants someone to set-up a safehouse over yonder. For Sam,” he finally said. “Guess who they’re sending out there to build it.”<br/>
     “Also Sam…?”<br/>
     “Can’t have him do <i>all</i> the work, now,” he laughed. “He’s sending yours truly.”<br/>
     “The Chronicles of Aaron Hill. The Great Embarkation,” she beamed.<br/>
     “Yep. Lucky me, right? Lucky me…”<br/>
     He trailed off. Then quietly, “Come with me. It’ll be like the old days.<br/>
</p>
<p>Sunlit paths were sprawled before them like thousands of tributaries. To the east, she saw the surfaces of bridges turn silver; miles of breathless snowscape teeming with holographic life: road signs, cairns, and hearts. She wanted to go with him. To see the work that the network—<i>their</i> network—has made possible. </p>
<p>“I wish I could. We have to stay here. Our work for Bridges isn’t done.”</p>
<p>Aaron nodded. A quiet disappointment spread across his face. After a moment of reflection, he was smiling again.<br/>
     “I gotta ask,” he took both of her hands in his. “Can I...at least get a goodbye kiss? Before I go?”<br/>
     Lockne laughed softly. She would miss him.<br/>
     “You don’t have to ask—”<br/>
     </p>
<p>She grabbed him by his headphones then pulled him into a smiling kiss.
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Heartman</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>Stranding.</i>
</p>
<p>Heartman returned from the Beach. Sam was gone. He was alone again.</p>
<p>After he caught his breath, he did a quick inspection of his lab, beginning with his gramophone. The record on its turntable had no visible scratches. It was still the <i>Clavier</i>; he hadn’t changed it. He moved to the hourglass. To his pleasant surprise, Sam reset it before taking his leave. He reset it once more then finally faced Målingen. </p>
<p>He trudged over to her slowly, as if he were knee deep in snow. He was alone now. Truly, profoundly alone. There were only tears at first, quiet tears that trickled down his face, unbidden. Then his entire body weeped for her. His shoulders shook, as did his hands, his heart. His <i>damned</i> heart. The heart that had caused him immeasurable pain and suffering, the heart that killed him once and many times over—the heart that he wanted nothing more than to rip out and have delivered to the nearest incinerator. His damned-relentless-pathetic-excuse for a heart.</p>
<p>He was already dead. Why did he feel like he was dying over and over again?</p>
<p>“I’m...I’m sorry,” was all he could mutter. He searched the same place he found the vial in. There was a memory chip there. He synced it with his cuff link. Deadman appeared before him. </p>
<p>“Hi Heartman,” there was a pleasant smile on his round face, which fell as soon as he sighed. He stared at his polished dress shoes for a quiet moment. “Mama informed me of her intention to donate her heart. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. She asked me to keep it a secret. I hope you understand.”</p>
<p>“You knew. All this time...” Heartman sank to the wooden floor near his desk. He grabbed the decanter in front of him and took a long swig. Deadman knew. Sam knew. Was he the only one in the dark?</p>
<p>“I know telling you this will not change things. After all, she might already be at her Beach. I...tried to change her mind, Heartman. I really did. But from the way she spoke, her mind was already made up.</p>
<p>“She asked me to make sure that her body is delivered to you, after she reunites with Lockne. And there’s the...” Deadman grew quiet. He gestured the approximate length of the vial with his thumb and forefinger. “This must be difficult for you. You’re not alone—I am grieving with you. Målingen...Mama is a good mother. A good friend. We will all miss her dearly...” </p>
<p>Deadman took off his glasses. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away his tears. Heartman followed suit, scrubbing his face with the back of his hand until his glove glistened. Afterwards, he drank some more and raised a toast to Deadman. </p>
<p><i>Cor aut mors.</i> Heart or death. </p>
<p>“I want to share with you what I told Målingen. It’s not easy. Living with another person’s organs. But if you do choose to accept her donation, I can assist you with the process. Mama and Lockne are both ‘O’ negative, the universal blood type. You both have DOOMS. And as you may have observed, her body does not necrotize.”</p>
<p>He looked to Målingen again. She looked as serene in death as she did in life. He watched her eyelids for any sign of movement, compelled by the part of his heart that believed—no, knew—that one day, when he returned from the Beach, so too would she return from the dead. One day…</p>
<p>“There’s something else she wanted you to have,” Deadman continued. “Another message, for your eyes only. Take care of yourself, Heartman. You know how to reach me.”</p>
<p>Deadman waved goodbye. Heartman hardly moved as he sat there, nearly empty decanter in his lap. He lost track of time. At some point, he got to his feet. He remembered taking a few steps towards her—or a half step, or several—before the world went dark.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Heartman</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Heartman had died approximately twelve times since his conversation with Deadman. Four hours and twenty-one-minutes. Two-hundred-and-sixty-one minutes total. His voice played in his mind, a broken record that repeated the same line again and again: <i>she might already be at her Beach.</i></p><p>He ended up on his divan somehow, Målingen’s memory chip in hand. With each return, he extended his arm out in front of him but didn’t flick his wrist. Once he watched the message, he knew it would play in his mind like a film, and that he’d pore over every detail until it consumed him. This was the way he was. This was how he lived.</p><p>He let his body take over his mind. He reset the hourglass. Poured himself a drink. Brushed his fingers across the spines of his books and films. Finally, he got to his gramophone. Placed the needle on the record. The <i>Clavier</i> played, and almost immediately he was back to that afternoon with Målingen. </p><p>She occupied a space in his heart and mind, now his lab. Wherever he went, there she stood: beneath the skeleton of the gray whale, by his divan, his window, his gramophone, where she sang and swayed in time with the music, visible only by the light of her odradek and cuff link. Blue light, blue eyes, blue soul encasing a heart of chiralium gold. There were no blues in inverted rainbows—Deadman taught him that. He had said that blue was very much the color of death. But as he stared into Målingen’s eyes, all he saw was life. </p><p>
  <i>You deserve a chance to live.</i>
</p><p>Heartman reached for the hourglass. He turned it over in his hands and watched the infinite flow of the chiral crystals. With her heart, he could have the one thing always out of his reach. He could watch films of any length, read longer books, write longer emails, sleep for longer than ten minutes. Step outside, see the world again. He could finally have the normal life he wanted. </p><p>He could finally live. </p><p>He returned to Målingen’s side and collapsed on the wooden floor beside her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g_72RkQV25Y">[Song on the Beach; Photograph - Arcade Fire]</a>
</p><p>
  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXMVkQ70I88">[Bach: Prelude 1 in C Major BWV 846 from the Well-Tempered Clavier, performed by Tzvi Erez]</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Heartman</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Three or four days had gone by since Sam’s visit. He didn’t keep track of the days anymore.</p>
<p>He dusted the shelves, which took him a good ten minutes. For the next eleven, he cleaned up loose piles of paperwork around his living room. There was one on the couch, right across his divan. Miriam’s. It had been there for so long his eyes would merely glance over it, having accepted it as a permanent fixture on the couch. Carefully, he turned over one paper, then another and another, until he managed to gather it all into a neat stack, which he laid on top of her untouched desk. He thought to himself that he would find the strength to organize it one day. </p>
<p>He moved on to his desk. It occurred to him that he hasn’t used it as a proper desk in ages and didn’t even have a chair for it. He organized it in earnest, putting all the important papers back into their folders and ripping up the rest. Dust lifted from the drawers as he opened and closed each one. </p>
<p>Their photograph. He finished cleaning his desk but hadn’t come across it. He threw open all the drawers, got on all fours to look underneath. Nothing. Had he ripped it up by mistake? No—he kept searching. </p>
<p>It wasn’t until he checked on his person did he find it inside his coat pocket, along with her memory chip. With the photograph still in hand, he finally played the message. </p>
<p>Målingen came to life in front of him. She had taken off her glasses, her eyes red from crying. </p>
<p>“Heartman,” she began. His lips parted, trembling, as he inched closer to her. “James. If you’re watching this, it means I’m already gone. I’m whole again. With Lockne. </p>
<p>“I don’t know if I’ll be back. Lockne and I, we share a Beach. I may end up there, or I could be a different person once we’re reunited. Or I could—be gone. Be somewhere on the other side by now…”</p>
<p>She rubbed at her cuff link. A single tear trickled down her cheek. She reached out a hand, and he aligned his with hers. </p>
<p>“I don’t...I don’t want you to blame yourself for any of this. I don’t want you to grieve for me. You’ve grieved enough. I can’t tell you what choice to make. But what I can tell you is...after you make your decision. When I’m gone.”<br/>
     Målingen turned away.<br/>
     “Don’t look for me. Do you hear me? I know you might be tempted to search for my Beach. I know you might feel lost right now. As am I. But <i>please</i>—don’t look for me.”<br/>
</p>
<p>Heartman closed the space between them. Her bare shoulders were shaking, bowed against a breeze he couldn’t feel. He stopped midway and whispered her name in a plea for her to turn around. To come back.</p>
<p>Målingen did, at last. Once she faced him, her hand was on her chest. “The past informs the present. But it shouldn’t define it.” She smiled.<br/>
     “I love you.”<br/>
     “I love you too. With my whole heart,” he said.<br/>
     He tried reaching for her hand, but she faded away.</p>
<p>She loved him with the quiet constancy of a star, unseen but burning still. She burned the last of her light to keep away the darkness; she burned for him and Lockne and Ellie. She burned for everyone but herself, and he felt at once ashamed and undeserving of such a love. All his life, the ones he loved made sacrifices for him.</p>
<p>It was time he did something other than sit around and blame his heart.</p>
<p>He didn’t know if their connection was strong enough. But he had to try—one last time. For her. </p>
<p>One last time, he would search for the one he loved on the Beach.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Heartman and Målingen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was night when Heartman awoke on the Beach. The stars burned bright that night, coruscating above a bioluminescent sea, each wave glowing with the vibrant blue of a cuff link. All around him, the sand and sea teemed with microscopic life. Whomever this place belonged to was still alive—of that, he was certain.</p>
<p>Heartman was still holding onto their picture. He smiled at her as he walked toward the sea. The sand turned a brilliant blue with each step he took. He walked a few steps then burst into a sudden sprint, parallel to the shoreline. He ran and ran until his heart couldn’t take it, his laughter drowning out the roar of the waves. </p>
<p>It might not have been Målingen’s beach, but it was a beautiful one. Was he not allowed to be happy, just this once?</p>
<p>“I wish you were here to see this,” he murmured, smiling as he watched the starlit shores.<br/>
     “...Beautiful, isn’t it?”<br/>
     He recognized that voice.<br/>
     “<i>Målingen</i>—!”<br/>
     She wasn’t wearing her glasses, but it was her. It was Målingen. Tenderly, he reached for her. Their hands met, physically, tangibly met, and they entwined their fingers as if they had done it a thousand times before. </p>
<p>“I can feel you,” Målingen whispered.<br/>
     Then she felt him with her lips.<br/>
</p>
<p>They kissed in time with the waves. Sea salt and scotch collected on their mouths and tongues. Målingen felt the cold lens of his glasses press against her skin each time their lips met. In between a kiss, he fumbled to take them off, but she held the temples of his glasses down to keep them in place. She laughed. So did he. He stole a few more kisses from her, breathless, heady, heart close to bursting before finally parting. Once the fog lifted from his glasses, he saw her face, how flushed her cheeks were, how happy she looked. He lost himself in her eyes. Starlight swirled in the blues of her irises, bluer than the distant waves before them.</p>
<p>“I...I thought I lost you,” Heartman breathed. “Your Beach is as beautiful as you are. Bioluminescence—it occurs when the enzyme, luciferase, catalyzes the oxidation of luciferin. Luciferin emits light when it decays to its ground state. Latin for ‘light bringer.’”<br/>
     Målingen missed this. She missed him.<br/>
     “It’s our Beach.”<br/>
     She smiled then looked up at the night sky.<br/>
     “Will you stay?” he asked, softly.<br/>
     Målingen tried to cheer him up by burrowing his glasses. It made him smile a bit. “I’m not going anywhere.”<br/>
     “You’re still alive,” he said. “You’ll be back...won’t you?”<br/>
</p>
<p>Målingen didn’t have an answer. She liked to think she wasn’t truly gone; the Beach and the afterlife were separate places. A part of her had died that day, that much was true. But as she held his hand and looked out at the sea with him, she never felt more alive. </p>
<p>“I think so.” At length, she placed her hand on his chest. “Is this…?”<br/>
     “Yes. This is yours now,” Heartman said. “It has been for a very long time.”<br/>
     “It is?”<br/>
     “...Figuratively,” he confessed. “I couldn’t bring myself to take your heart. But you know, I thought about it. I thought of everything I could’ve done with a new heart. All the films I can watch in their entirety, all the records I could listen to. All the books I could read, cover to cover. I would finally have time for everything. Time enough at last.<br/>
</p>
<p>“But I wouldn’t have been happy. <i>Truly</i> happy, without you by my side.” Heartman placed his hand over hers. “This is yours now. Every artery and vein. Each ventricle and atrium, every cell—dying or rebirthing. Every fiber of my being. My <i>ha</i> and <i>ka.</i> Yours, and only yours. You loved me for who I was. Even with this...heart-shaped heart of mine.</p>
<p>“I carry your heart. I carry it in my heart.”<br/>
</p>
<p>They embraced above and beneath the light of a million stars. The Beach had driven them apart countless times, but for one breathless night it brought them together again.</p>
<p>Målingen squeezed his hand and asked, “Do you have to leave?”<br/>
     “I’m gone for three minutes on that side. But here, with you. I have time. All the time in the world.<br/>
</p>
<p>Heartman pulled her in close. He pressed his forehead against hers. In a voice softer than the waves, he whispered, “Where were we?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a href="https://66.media.tumblr.com/75a9420cacac4090920ec7dd57d40979/30448db667773e74-27/s1280x1920/81a2d6346b8c94fa4aa6f83ced8fb49d22fd977a.gifv">Art of the final scene.</a> There's a slight glowing animation to it; if you have light sensitivities, here's a still version: <a href="https://66.media.tumblr.com/4f3bb4e6b7f7ea1413e22c61c7faaa5a/2c142ee0b8ab4dec-fa/s2048x3072/bca842c418b4fddf8785024f58b1036be2d89be6.png">[link]</a></p>
<p>  <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bioluminescence">[Bioluminescence on Wiki]</a><br/><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/3Un9IKqqC6LEqjwKsFWrqx?si=NB7eZNMPSg-yb1SlkwwJdA">[Pluto - Phum Viphurit]</a><br/><a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1bmRhKuFQ9bHZCwObixgAj?si=2IBcpv9iQU6c0C8NSQ1Yww">[Heartlines - Playlist]</a></p>
<p>A cool fact I learned about Pluto the other day: the brightest part of it is named <i>Tombaugh Regio,</i> also called the “<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tombaugh_Regio">heart</a>”!</p>
<p>This has been so fun to write! Thank you for joining me on this journey. Whether you’ve been here from the beginning, or only discovering this now, I hope you will find the person whom your heart belongs to one day (even if that person is yourself c:)</p>
<p><i>Acknowledgements</i><br/>♥ Special thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenshi_Nanashi">Tenshi_Nanashi</a> for your support!<br/>♥ To R, for giving me the courage to finally share my writing.<br/>♥ To my bone graft donor(s). </p>
<p>Keep on keeping on! ♥</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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